Race to the Start...

Race to the Start

I rise early to finish final preparations.  The sun is still creeping up in the sky, and the dew is dancing on every surface. One deep breath of the crisp morning air tells me fall is on its way, but summer is fighting it back, and still winning.

My nerves are already humming with anticipation as I review, for the tenth time, my list of items for the day. My usual checklist includes: suit, goggles, bike, shoes, helmet, sunglasses, running shoes, and hat. The rest I can do without. Today’s ritual is much the same as any other race day. Meticulously, I place each necessary item in the car, organizing, preparing, and keeping that huge ball of fire between my heart and my head in check-for now.

Although I’m usually on my own for race days, Hubby is coming with. Surprisingly, his presence holds off some of panic nibbling in the back of my brain. “What if I’m not good enough?”  “Am I ready for this?”, “Did I really pack everything?”  He’s excited to witness today’s events and hoping I’ll come out on top.

Backing out of the driveway, I take one last calming look at our home. That too settles me. No matter how amazing or how disastrous this day turns out, this is where I will return.  My home with Little Man, Princess, and Hubby.

We leave Cold Spring behind and start our journey south. Factoring in coffee breaks, bathroom breaks, and getting lost, we figure three hours should do it.

The trip meter whirls away the miles, and the prairies become glacier lands. Open, flat farm acreage morphs into rolling fields with corn rows planted around outcroppings of trees and rock. Farming is different down here. The hills are larger, and the forests seemingly more plentiful. We’re no longer able to head straight to our destination, as the hills and trees the ancient glaciers left behind force us to meander through roads cut into layers of rock and around unfarmable hills covered with gnarled trees. I take another look at the map. We’re still heading in the right direction and should arrive with plenty of time to spare.

A few miles deeper into the hilly scenery, my heart thuds, sending jangling reverberations up my spine and into my brain. Irritatingly, Hubby still loosely holds the steering wheel looking as if he hasn’t a care in the world.

Aren’t you nervous? I ask him.

No, why would I be. This is about you.

Because I’m nervous.  So you should be too.

I can’t wait to sit back and watch.

With a reassuring smile, Hubby puts the small argument to rest.

Thirty miles out, it’s time to make the phone call. I’m ready. I’ve been preparing for this since April. With uncertain fingers and a deep breath, and then another deep breath, I make the call. “We’re thirty miles out, and we’re running on time.”  

As soon as I end the call, my brain short circuits. This is normal for any race day, but hubby is baffled.  He’s never experienced a pre-race melt down.  I’m grateful that Hubby’s driving; at this point, it’s much safer for everyone. To calm my nerves, I text a good friend:

15 miles away

Hands shaking

Heart racing

Reminding myself to breathe

But not too much, lest I hyperventilate…

Pre-race jitters!!!

In that last 15 miles, I manage to lose my phone once, the directions twice, forget how many miles are left, tell Hubby we can save this for another day, and nearly hyperventilate.

Somewhat against my subconscious will, we arrive. Slowing down to pull into the small parking lot, gravel crunches under the wheels of the car. We ease into the parking lot and get a good look at where we will be stationed for a good part of the day. The beach is located close to the parking lot. The water seemed calm and clean. The hills surrounding us cast their protective strength over us making us feel insignificant, yet safe.

The bar, as they often sponsor such events, is thankfully  unpretentious. The building stands grey, the perfect backdrop for the riot of color that paints the mural that screams out and welcomes patrons at the same time. Out back, between the building and the beach, brightly colored picnic tables invite people to relax, take in the environment, and find some pretense of calm. 

We’re finally here.  I take a cleansing breath, crawl out of the car on unsteady legs, and find comfort in the sound of my feet crunching on gravel. Crossing the small parking lot to the quaint, local bar, my world turns surreal. I’m not here, but I am. I’m trapped, an observer in some crazy woman’s body screaming to turn around but not being heard.

Closing my fingers around the once-silver, dull and worn door handle, I look one more time at Hubby for reassurance, and pull.

At a small table to my right in a dimly lit room, two small women sit. Stepping over the threshold, they slowly rise- seemingly uncertain. Willing my feet to keep moving, I close the gap.

“Bev?” I ask.

Can I hug you?  She countered.

For the first time, I saw my biological mother, and she saw me.

The next seven hours are somewhat a blur. I know the food was excellent. The company was exquisite.  This day, I met not only my biological mother, but two half-sisters, a cousin, a niece, and a significant other. And it turns out that I am good enough, I am ready, and I really didn’t need to pack anything.

Little Man's Double Hitter in a Single Inning

Monday night, Little Man and his team capped off the baseball season with their final game.

In the top of the second inning, the opposing team takes the field in a flurry of forest green First National Bank t-shirts. Little Man's team is at bat. Sitting nervously eleven little boys chew sunflower seeds in an attempt to keep their nervous energy under control.  Between nerves and seeds, the boys enter their second inning.

At his turn, Little Man stepps up to the plate and takes his stance. Sporting grey baseball pants reaching just past his knees, a bright purple State Bank of Cold Spring team shirt, and a cocky grin, he delivers his best evil eye stare straight at the pitcher.

Unfazed, the pitcher throws Little Man his first pitch. It's low. The pitcher delivers another fast ball. It's outside. Frustrated, the pitcher sends off another ball. This time, it's right in there, kind of...

As the ball closes in on Little Man, a split second of terror radiates through his body, and he drops to the ground. Too late, the baseball finds its target right on Little Man's noggin. A hush falls over the sidelines. Princess, Hubby, and I lean forward in our seats. Little Man can either take his base, or get up and bat again...clamering to his feet, he looks to first base and then reaches down and picks up his bat. Little Man took his first hit and bounced back.

This time, his grin isn't quite so cocky, but it's still fixed on his face where it belongs. He takes the stance and waits for the next pitch. It comes in right over the plate, but feeling a bit more cautious, Little Man doesn't take it. Strike one.

Little man again squares up to the plate, ready for the next pitch. Right now, Little Man's world is reduced to him and that ball. Everything else falls away. The pitcher winds up, and sends that ball straight toward Little Man. As the ball rocket's toward him, Little Man's world slows down. Eyes on the ball, he realizes it's barrelling straight at him. Turning his body, hoping to avoid an inevitable collision, Little Man takes the ball in the shoulder blade.

The crowd's not so hushed this time. Little Man slowly starts moving again. As the pain hits, so does the realization that he can either hit again or take his base. With one hard stare at first base, and one hard stare at the pitcher, Little Man weights his options more seriously this time.  Decision made, Little Man reaches down and grabs his bat; he's ready to face the ball one more time.

From the sidelines, fans shout their advice.

Come on. You can do it!

Hang tough Little Man.

I can't believe he took it a second time! Way to go Little Man!

Take your base! bellows a voice to my immediate right.

Hubby draws the line. Eventhough Little Man is willing to try again, he needs that one voice to put that slightly cocky grin back on Little Man's face. With that, Little Man takes his base.

It doesn't matter how scared we are; fear is normal. It's embracing that fear and still confronting the situation that defines bravery. Little Man learned that lesson. I'm sure he'll learn it again and again. The top of the second inning of the final game of the season is and will forever be a defining moment in Little Man's big life.

April Showers Bring....

As I follow Facebook commentaries on this lovely Spring day, and watch the snowflakes and gusty winds that usher in May, I personally chose to take a mental day on the 40 mile bike ride on my training calendar. Tomorrow I'll be back in full swing, looking to take the hills again at 40 plus miles per hour on my bike!

Today was a good day to hunker down and frontload on this week's tasks. Fortunately, one of the tasks for today is to plant some green stuff! First, I sent Princess off to collect the marigolds she planted at school with Hubby. These already needed a larger container. Second, I sent Little Man off to collect his 5 bean seeds, two sunflower seeds, and 4 small pots. The kids scooped the potting soil from the bag to their small pots. Princess gently filled in more dirt as she transplanted her marigolds. Little man measured on his finger how far into the soil he should press his 5 bean and 2 sunflower seeds. That complete, he covered the raw seeds with a light blanket of aromatic soil.

We weren't done yet. Both children brought Arbor Day trees home from school on Friday. These absolutely needed to be planted outside, but we were really worried we would lose them once we planted them--unfortunately, it's happened before. For this reason, we now have two new trees decorating the two urns on either side of the front of our garage.

Happy May Day! Princess and Little Man got to play in the dirt, and I got to use the new Hori Hori Hubby surprised me with. (I LOVE my Hori Hori!...Oh yeah, and Hubby, too!)

2011 Earth Day Half Marathon!

I finally did it! I ran my first half marathon.

The entire week before the race, I watched the weather forecast for Saturday, April 16 with optimistic anticipation. Day after day, the extended forecast called for rain into Saturday. And day after day, I found myself rationalizing the possible outcomes for this undesirable moisture.

Monday, I was sure the forcast would change.

Tuesday, there was still a chance it would rain, but we would also likely see warmer temperatures.

Wednesday, rain was defininately on it's way, and I wasn't so sure about those warmer temperatures.

Thursday, the forcast for Saturday changed from cold and rainy to cold and snowy.

Friday, I reminded myself that my training had prepared me more for a cooler run than the sheer discomfort of a warm day. After all, I though, I had trained in the cold; therefore, the impending snow storm would be just fine.

On Saturday morning, I awoke early. I studied the temperatures, the wind strength, and the amount of snow that had fallen the night before. I had one last bit of rationalizing to do. Saturday morning, I convinced myself the sun would wrestle its way out of the clouds, and by the time the half marathon started, this beautiful Minnesota spring day would definitely be warming up.

That's where my excessive optimism failed. After arriving at St. Cloud State University's Hallenbeck Hall, I took my time to do some proper stretching and to carefully examine what others were wearing. I saw shorts, t-shirts, sweat shirts, winter hats, gloves, and layers and layers of other miscelaneous clothing. I figured my attire fell somewhere in the middle. Convinced of my averageness, I felt ready to push on.

At 8:40 a.m. I joined the throng of anxious runners as they flooded out toward the starting line. I did my best to ignore the bite of the wind and the inadequate layers I had donned. Focusing on the starting gun, my race strategy, and anticipated split times, I entered the "race zone"!

The first 6 miles were solid. I kept pace with the group I started with, and was feeling pretty in control of my run. I will admit I did a little too much positioning which caused me some energy deficiencies later in the run. Despite this, I figured I should feel pretty good until mile 9 or 10.

I was wrong. This day, settling in and warming my muscles up were not in the cards. By miles 5 and 6 I was already admitting to myself that this run may not actually feel so good.  Regardless, there were splits to hit. Who really cares how much it hurts? In this situation, pain wasn't relevant. And by the way, this half marathon discomfort was nothing compared to root canal or major surgery.

Feeling better, I moved into the last few miles. I knew I had at least two minutes to make up during the last leg of this race. Telling myself it was time to stop slacking, I refocused and concentrated on one step at a time. This seemed to be working. My arms and legs were moving fluently. My breathing was still regular, and I hadn't actually burned through my quads, hamstrings, or hip flexors yet. I had energy to spare! (The truth was I was so cold and numb that I couldn't feel much of anything...)

Moving into the final 1.1 miles of the course, I kicked it in. I told myself I could do almost anything for 8 or 9 minutes. Minute by minute, and step by step, I approached the finish line. I was no longer quite aware of where the route was taking me, but I knew I was getting close to the end. Entering the final stretch, I summoned my last nugget of strength and crossed the finish line with a flash of exhaustion and exhillarition.

I had done it. I have now competed my first half marathon. I still felt relatively ok, and I had come in under my goal time.

Throughout the run, I did learn a few things:
-A half marathon is too long to "jockey for position"
-There isn't really anything wrong with overdressing
-There is a fine line between acclimating to colder temperatures and hypothermia
-And I would definately do a half marathon again!

Now, I'm passing on Disney Land in favor of the start of TRIATHLON SEASON!!!!! Yippe!!

Little Man's Eleanor Roosevelt Diorama...

Two and a half weeks ago, Little Man, Hubby, and I went to Little Man’s Spring School Conferences. With a glowing review of Little Man’s potential and abilities, Hubby and I also learned about Little Man’s Eleanor Roosevelt Diorama assignment. The diorama was to illustrate their person’s contribution to America’s development. Hubby and I were informed that to date, instead of working on his research in the class time provided, Little Man chose to ignore the work time opportunities—Translation: Little Man knew only that Eleanor Roosevelt was married to an important president…at some point,   within the history of the United States.

Over the following week, Hubby and I continued to ask Little Man when he would be bringing his diorama project home to work on. We received answers like: “I don’t know!”, “Well you threw away the shoe boxes!”, and “I don’t even know what a diorama is anyway!” Even I’m not sucker enough to fall for the fact that little Man was being held responsible for successfully completing this project, in a void, without any instructions.

Finally, this past Monday, on our way home from basketball practice, I asked him one more time, “Little Man, do you know when your diorama is due yet?” And finally, seemingly happy to have an exact answer, he spouted, “It’s due Thursday!”

The car went silent…

Then, being the extremely caring and rational parent I am, I started a very logical discussion (one sided of course) on the practicality of expecting a major homework assignment to magically complete itself, with a high level of quality and expertise, by the due date of Thursday…magically! Soon, we pulled into the garage, and feeling that went pretty well, I shepherded Little Man into the house with specific instructions to go directly to his room and “think” about the reality of his homework plans.

That taken care of, it was time to brief Princess. I pulled her aside, gave her a princess hug, and prepared her for the noise to come. I explained gently that Hubby and I needed to put the smack-down on Little Man, and that in no way was any of the noise to come directed at her. This served two purposes: Princess would definitely not be blindsided by the activities of the evening, and Hubby and I were guaranteed a perfectly well-behaved Princess for a few days at the very least.

That night, Hubby and I fulfilled our parental duties by talking Little Man nearly to death. (Don’t chuckle Mitch!) Together we expounded on the requirements of the assignment. We peppered Little Man with questions designed to force a plan of action. And we ate up a bit more time to ensure Little Man would have a few quality nights of the Late Night Cram Sessions he had so cluelessly chosen.

That night, Little Man researched Eleanor Roosevelt’s contributions to the United States. Of course it was much more difficult because online writing, as a general rule, isn’t written at a fourth grade reading level. He researched, he took notes, he wrote a sloppy copy, and he finally finished these steps around 9:00 p.m. By now, Little Man was hoping for bed, and Hubby and I were fading fast. But Little Man had one more task for the evening - to write a letter to his teacher explaining why he hadn’t started his assignment until this evening. Amazingly, that one agonizing sentence forcing Little Man to own his actions-or lack thereof- only took one hour to write…

Bleary eyed, Little Man finally hit the sack around 10:00. For the average fourth grader, I figured one late night is manageable. But Hubby and I were going to wear Little Man down in an attempt to give Little Man the near-perfect experience of back to back late night cram sessions. By the end of Tuesday night, Little Man typed his essay, proofed it, and embarked on a thought-filled but less than stellar diorama attempt. Note also, no shoe boxes were harmed in the making of Little Man’s diorama. Orville Redenbacher, however, took a hit for the team. Figuring Little Man was sure to have at least one more long study night on Wednesday, we relented at his progress thus far.

Finally, we stumbled into Wednesday night. Little Man was exhausted, Hubby and I were getting delirious with the ominous responsibility of providing the best possible cram sessions ever, and Princess got off easy and went to bed. One slow and increasingly painful step at a time, Little Man made improvements upon his initial attempt at a quality Eleanor Roosevelt diorama. First, he tackled the idea that stick people and stick drawings weren’t likely what his teacher had in mind. Then he realized that three dimensional means floors and ceilings do count. Finally, Little Man conquered the neutralization of Orville Redenbacher’s portrait on the exterior surfaces of his project. At that point, we all dragged ourselves to bed…

Little Man experienced his first experience of back to back late night cram sessions, and even though I’m sure it won’t be his last, I think he’ll at least be satisfied enough with his experience to last him a relatively long time…well, at least through May…and then it’s summer…and I’m pretty certain big projects don’t come along right away in the fall, so I’m thinking we might be clear until Christmas…but then there are promises of presents…(I think I just crossed over into wishful thinking…)

My Teaching Philosophy

As teaching philosophies are elastic, my personal teaching philosophy has been evolving over the last several years. I have taught at various levels including:  junior high, senior high, and post-secondary. Within these teaching environments, I have come to recognize the elements that comprise excellent teaching also create excellent learning opportunities for students.

 I believe:

An excellent teacher is able to meet the student where they are. Adult learners seek education in many cases to improve themselves and to better the lives of those around them. While these dedicated students pursue their educations, however, many are also carrying large responsibilities in other areas of their lives. This may include a full or part time job, raising responsible children, and even taking care of elderly parents. To address the needs of adult learners, an excellent instructor recognizes this tenuous balance on the student’s part. In addition, adult learners bring vast knowledge, experience, and skills to the learning environment.  This wealth of life experiences enriches students’ learning environments. Finally, adult students need to have control of their own learning. While the objectives of most courses are standardized, adult students flourish when given choices and control over some aspects of their own learning. Adult learners are just that-adults.

Excellent teaching should be individualized as often as possible. Just as not all students learn the same; not all students utilize the same learning preferences. Many years ago, as a high school English teacher, I taught nearly every tenth grader in the school. Some liked English, some were ambivalent, and some really resented the class and its content. The great thing about this was when I was able to substitute in classes like woodworking, machining, and metalworking, many of the students fostering hatred for English classes truly excelled in their hands-on classes. This experience speaks to learning styles. Whether addressing Gardner, Flemming, or one of the other learning theories available, the basis is the same; students learn differently. Because of this, I attempt to utilize different learning styles within my classes. For composition, it may be adding visuals to announcements or discussion boards. It might be that a student works better in a hands-on environment. Hands-on students often prefer to break larger tasks into smaller ones. Through interaction and hands-on practice, these students learn and retain more effectively. Through learning styles, an excellent instructor can both better reach students and better facilitate their learning.

Facilitation rather than instruction teaches students tools for learning and a broader perspective of the professional career field they choose to pursue.  Excellent teachers set the expectations for their students and model appropriate methods to achieve these expectations. When teaching, I expect that students submit their assignments in a timely manner. To set this example, my student communications and assignment feedback are prompt. Rarely does a student wait the full 24 hours for an email response or the entire 72 hour assignment turnaround time for submitted assignments. Further, an excellent instructor models a global perspective for students. Many post-secondary students are familiar with the idea of having a job, but pursuing a career is somewhat different. By emphasizing the important experiences, attitudes, beliefs, and values each student holds, we can foster appreciation for all students, thus expanding students’ world views. Finally, excellent facilitation sets students up for success without lowering the standard. Setting students up for success can be seen in instances of cheating or plagiarism. If we, as instructors send a message to students that cheating and plagiarism are acceptable in the academic environment, then we are also telling them it is acceptable in their career field. That would be a grave injustice to any student.  Excellent facilitation sets students up for success, not failure.

In short, whether it is through setting students up for success, individualizing instruction as much as possible, or simply meeting students where they are in their learning, excellent instruction comes down to student centered learning. In short, good instructors know their material, but great instructors know their students.

Spring Fever!

March. There isn't a lot to say about this month. It should be warming up, but that's slow in coming. The walls start to crowd in on me as the need for warmer weather grows. What's the solution?

Paint the walls a brighter color! I suggest a parchment color. It's light, airy, and an excellent backdrop for any decor.

Now that I'm feeling brighter, it's time for a training update. I've been training for the Earth Day Half Marathon now for eight weeks with only five weeks until the big event.

Over the last two months I have learned a few things I'd like to share:

-Don't eat a granola bar ten minutes before a speed workout. It doesn't taste better the second time.

-When you forget your running socks, opt for practical versus fashionable. After tearing up the arches of both feet about 3 weeks ago, I am now earning blisters on my blisters. Nexcare by 3M does make a splendid waterproof bandaid for such occasions. They're economically reasonable, which is good because I'm going to need a lot of them, and they are in fact somewhat fashionable.

-Think positive. By that I don't mean thoughts like "I'm definitely going to die, hurl, or drop this weight on my head. In thinking positively, I focus only on the sprint, set, or mile at hand.

-Stretch! It sounds like a no-brainer, but it really does work. I used to go to my favorite chiropractor, Doc Sara at Chiropractic Performance Center in Sartell, and wait for her to ask if I had been stretching. My response? "Who has time for that; it's a luxury." (Despite the fact that I had plenty of time to drive to the chiropractor, feel bad because I'm not actually stretching, get adjusted, and then drive the 25 miles back home... All because I hadn't been stretching.)

-Take the time to enjoy the workout. When I start a workout, I shut out everything else in my day. I may listen to music, brainstorm, or try to solve the world's problems, but it is my time.  (Sarah B, Remember that one time I was on the treadmill at the school, and you came in with a question?) I often find myself telling potential conversationalists "I'm not here!" Because in fact, I am in actuality a million miles away.

With these lessons firmly in my mind, I am moving into the next phase of my training. As some of you already know, I signed up for the Earth Day Half Marathon because "I'm curious". I have stayed faithful to my training schedule over the past eight weeks and am officially on target for a 1:40.00 half marathon. Yesterday, I did nine miles at 8.5 miles per hour. It felt amazing!

As my true goal for this racing season is to compete long course in the Annandale Heart of the Lakes Triathlon and a few triathlons after that, today I begin to meld half marathon training with triathlon training.

That means, I start training in the pool. Over the next five weeks, I will integrate the triathlon swim training with my current half marathon training. At that point, I'll race Earth Day and shift into week six of the overall triathlon training. As usual, I can make things complicated when I really want to!

So, here's to lessons learned and lessons yet to learn!

Little Man, Hubby, and Princess

The same day Little Man conquered the modified hurdle stretch, we agreed that he would bike, and I would run for a few miles. The biggest obstacle was that Little Man's bike had been winterized and was currently hanging upside down like a bat from the ceiling of Hubby's Man Cave.

Feeling brave, we slipped and slid over the ice covered snow, finally reaching Hubby's Man Cave filled to the brim with Man Toys. Little Man's excitement mounted as I punched the secret code numbers that would gain us precious access to Hubby's Man Cave and Little Man's bike. Surveying the scene, we discovered that Little Man's bike had in fact been hung upside down for winter storage...above Hubby's zero-turn lawnmower and his sparklingly spotless fishing boat.

Knowing Hubby all too well, Little Man and I understood the dangers of going near either of these prized possessions, in case we might leave a fingerprint, or worse yet, a scratch on either. Formulating a plan and feeling confident about that plan, Little Man supervised as I approached. It was simple. I would let down the front of the bike, reposition myself, unhook the back of the bike, and with Little Man's help, we would deliver it safely to the floor.

Stepping gingerly onto the seat of Hubby's lawnmower, I reached for the front tire of Little Man's bike. With my feet planted firmly on the lawnmower's glorious silver naugahide seat, I reached forward. I lifted the front end of Little Man's bike, untangling the spokes, and removed the wheel from its hook.

Then, faster than I could process, the screw holding the bike batlike for the winter reached for its freedom, and Little Man's bike came plummeting towards me. Losing my footing and for the first time in my life loving Hubby's beautiful, tall fishing boat, I reached out and desparately wedged my elbow into the point of its pretty little nose. A split second later, I realized that I had become a Little Man/Hubby sandwich with Hubby's zero-turn lawnmower serving as the bottom slice of bread, and Little Man's bike capping off the top.

Little Man stood there, mouth hanging open, eyes uncomprehending at first. He was the first to recover, and with his curious mind working overtime, Little Man asked,

Mom, is this a good time to say CRAP?

Uh Huh, I croaked.

Well then, OH CRAP!

A few pounds of bike and a good dose of ibuprofen later, Little Man and I started out on our next adventure.

Little Man, Hubby, and Princess

Little Man wants to do a triathlon. So when I told him that I was going to run outside today, he offered to run with me...We met in the middle, and Little Man settled for riding his bike while I ran.

Embracing the entire process of proper training, Little man and I started with a bit of stretching. Sitting side by side, Little Man executed the stretches as I demonstrated them.  After a few really good warm-up stretches, we got to the gloriously challenging modified hurdle stretch. For this stretch, the stretcher (Little Man) sits down, extends one leg straight in front and tucks the other leg in to form the shape of a capital "L". Demonstrating this stretch for my favorite little man athlete, I explained that once the stretcher (Little Man) is in position, the goal is to reach for the big toe and then hold the stretch. 

Little Man stretched and stretched, and his knee raised itself northward like a small mountain. But he still couldn't find his big toe.  At that point I decided to again meet him in the middle. "Reach for your sock", I told him.

Again, Little Man stretched, and stretched, and his knee raised itself northward like a smaller foot hill-But still could not make contact with the topmost edge of his sock.

Combatting frustration with thought, Little Man took a brief time out. His eyes squinched up, and his brows knit together. Then, an idea struck him. Without another word, Little man assumed the position with his knee enormously bent, and his eyes focused on the prize. Reaching determinedly toward his sock, Little Man confidently grabbed the top, pulled it up to his knee, straightened his leg, and beamed all of his Little Man teeth brilliantly in my direction.

Princess, Little Man, and Hubby

Princess and I were relaxing recently, discussing girlie-girl things. Soon enough, Princess wanted to know why she didn't get to stay home from school for Valentines Day. Before my brain could catch up to my mouth, I responded, "Because Valentines Day is a fabricated holiday created by Hallmark to sell cards." Before too much damage was done, my brain and my mouth did meet. Shifting gears, I said, "Because Valentines Day is a special day when you can celebrate with your friends. That's why you want to go to school that day."

Giving myself a mental pat on the back, I reminded myself that 7 year olds don't really care whether holidays are fabricated or not. They mostly want to play with their friends and have fun. This was one of those moments when as a parent, I could appreciate just how small and safe Princess' world really is.

Her next question, however, felt like a punch in the stomach. Innocently, she asked, "Mommy, why don't Grandma and Grandpa from Wisconsin come and visit us anymore. Can they come for Easter?"

At this point, I realized that I could either brush the ugly answers under the rug and preserve the delicate balance of her safe world, or I could force my innocent little Princess a bit further into the bigger, more dangerous world that I want so badly to protect her from.

I did take that step, pushing Princess a step closer to that dangerous world. Princess needs to learn about and understand such ugliness as she's ready, and in that safe environment where she can both learn and be safe. Being the resiliant little one that she is, our conversation moved on to prettier girlie-girl topics. Within minutes, Princess' world was small and safe again.

I, however, haven't bounced back so quickly. I know I did the right thing; I know Princess is safe; I resent the fact that the ugliness of life has to touch one so small and innocent. In writing about this now, I'm hoping that I can find some closure and be ready for the next time the "real world" touches my safe, happy children.

Princess, Little Man, and Hubby

I've been following my second favorite dancer, who also happens to be a biomechanics guru, on Facebook for awhile now. The exhiliration, the sweat, the passion, and the talent of this young woman is incredible. But, alas, family trumps talent! My new favorite dancer is Princess.

Princess has been going to dance for a few weeks now, and it's fun to see her learning the dances that she and the other girls in her class will be performing in May. Little Man, Hubby, and I are very much looking forward to this monumental event.

A few nights ago, Princess had just snuggled into her girlie-girl bed in her girlie-girl room awaiting hugs and kisses good night. The scene was set for yet another bedtime ritual. First, Princess climbs into the covers and declares that her blankets are cold, to which I reply, "Not for long, you'll snuggle in soon enough." Content with that, she looks to Hubby for a bear hug, a sloppy kiss, and a little playful ribbing. At this point, it's my turn. Often Princess will wait for Hubby to leave her girlie-girl haven, and we settle in for a short but entertaining girlie-girl chat.

This night was no different except for the fact that our girlie-girl chat started in whispered tones. I knew right away this must be special, as I wasn't even aware that Princess knew how to whisper... For this special occasion, Princess really needed a special hug to start off the conversation. As we were in the midst of our hug, Princess whispered,

Mom!

What is it Princess?

The girls at dance don't wear underpants under their leotards!

How do you know?

The girls say when you wear underpants, they show through the leotard!

Hmmm, I thought. She is seven years old; this does sound important; and besides, everyone else seems to be doing it...or not doing it in this case.

Princess, do you want to try it?

With her eyes open wide, and smile just as huge, my little princess bobbed her head eagerly. A quick kiss on the cheek, an extra hug or two, and Princess snuggled into her girlie-girl bed in her girlie-girl room and had some girlie-girl dancing dreams.

Sweet dreams Princess!

Meet Little Man, Princess, and Hubby

Today, I would like to reminisce.

When Little Man was about six years old he watched the timeless Christmas movie, Elf. It was fun seeing him as he took everything in. He laughed; he hooted; he didn't understand the inherent dangers of picking up gum off the street... Princess, on the other hand, understood nothing, but she laughed simply because her brother laughed.

As soon as the movie ended, Little Man said in his no-nonsense Little Man voice, "I wanna ride the escevator like Elf." Knowing he wasn't about to back down, my mind raced through the options for escevators in St. Cloud. The choices were very limited. In fact the only three escevators I could think of were Herbergers, JC Penney, and Scheels.

The next day, we bundled up, made sure Princess had her blankie and her stroller, and went in search the magical escevator. Starting at JC Penney, Little Man was keenly in search of the magical climbing machine that Elf had mastered so well. As we approached our destination, we saw the ominous "Please use the stairs" sign posted across the entrance of the escevator. When Little Man saw what he was looking for and realized that it wasn't moving, his expression changed from excitement, to confusion, to desperation.

This was a bad sign, especially as his little chin started to quiver and his eyes began to take on moisture. Quickly, we moved to Plan B. Scheels was our last hope because eventhough Herbergers did have an escevator, Little Man didn't have it in him to endure even one more sign directing escevator riders to use the stairs. Little Man knew about stairs. They held no majical attraction for him. He had already used them. In fact he once rode his tricycle down the stairs.

Through the store and across the mall, to Scheels we went. As soon as we crossed the threshold, the glorious escevator was the only thing Little Man saw. And it was moving upward to mysterious, uncharted regions. In truth, it was the fudge shop, which is just as alluring to a 6 year old.

Little Man rushed to the base of the escevator, gaged his timing, and stepped-with one foot on the tread-the other dragging behind-Just like Elf! Of course, I realized. Little Man didn't just want to ride the escevator, he needed to experience it Elf style!

We rode that escalator for a good half hour. Princess, who was still hanging out in the stroller with her blankie, and I rode a few times, but soon we became spectators.

To this day that movie affects our daily lives. Little Man and Princess learned valuable lessons about what color snow to avoid, what candies and gums to steer clear of, and how to ride an escevator "Elf Style".

Just this morning, Little Man encountered one of those rotating doors. Still influenced by Elf, he was bound and determined to take a few spins around.



Training update:

Since I last reported, I have been keeping to the training schedule. Today was another speed day.

O M G was that F U N! I'm officially hooked on speed work!

Today's training session was a tempo run consisting of:

10 min warmup @ 6.0 mph
5 min tempo @ 6.5 mph
4 min tempo @ 7.0 mph
3 min tempo @ 7.5 mph
2 min tempo @ 8.0 mph
1 min tempo @ 8.5 mph
5 min cool down @ 6.0 mph

I honestly have not had that much fun in a long, long time!

Meet Princess, Little Man, and Hubby

As a good friend pointed out recently, this is turning into a training journal, which is extrememly limited. Besides, I'm pretty sure it'll get pretty old if you have to read about sweaty people doing painful things all the time.

Today, I want to take an opportunity to write on a subject I have never written about: Princess, Little Man, and Hubby. Let's start with Princess.

Princess made it to dance class this week for the very first time. Class actually started last week, but we couldn't find it. We had all of the necessary information--except for location. Princess and I went to the middle school, the high school, the elementary school, and back to the middle school. I ended up taking my disappointed Princess home and stuffing her with rainbow sherbert.

After another long week of anticipation for both of us, on Tuesday night we finally made it to class in the middle school cafeteria...Who'd a known? After about two seconds of shyness, Princess jumped into the social life of dance. She smiled the entire time, and it was really fun to see her having bucket loads of fun in a social setting. I am pretty sure we'll be back next Tuesday; Princess liked dancing in a circle to the Little Mermaid theme song the best. We have 16 weeks and one performance to go. Princess is finally happy, and I get to see her hair pulled off her face for at least one hour each week...Priceless!

If you're a parent, want to be a parent, or remember funny stories from your childhood, I invite you to share them. Or, if you too have experienced that natural phenomenon that happens when you become parents and are magically expected to know things, what was your experience?  What's your story?

Oh yeah...

1.27.2011 Training update:
3 mile slow run
Weights with some increases

And, I finally broke down and ate the rest of the cake. Sorry Princess, Little Man, and Hubby! Could I possibly argue that Cake Loading falls safely under the umbrella of Carbo Loading? Food for thought...

1.26.2011

Today, I made endorphins...

After my first real interval training in about ten years, I actually feel pretty good. The workout consisted of a .5 mile warm-up, 5x400@ 5K race pace/7:30 mph, and a .5 mile cool down. I was a little nervous about the speed work, but the first 400 interval was the toughest.

As I seek endorphins, I also seek positive aspects to treadmill training.  Treadmill training will teach me exactly what speed is what. By the time I can get outside without getting frostbite, I should be able to rely on my own internal pace-o-meter.  Another benefit is that I cannot possibly fall off the treadmill due to destractability. I had forgotten how focused these workouts have to be. By zoning in on the training at hand, everything else goes away for the duration of the exercise, which will definitely come in handy during races.

On a more health conscious note (no, I avoided the chocolate cake for breakfast!) I took the time today to go see my favorite Chiropractor (http://docsaradc.com/location.html). Doc Sara has worked with Olympic Athletes, keeps current on beneficial techniques like Graston, and enjoys working with not only athletes, but women and children also. Today, Doc Sara performed the Graston technique on my neck. She has also worked on my IT band using the same technique in the past. In many aspects, I prefer Graston to other more traditional techniques. Have you ever had your IT Band stripped? I find it to be an uncomfortable experience to put it mildly. With Graston, the tools used help Doc Sara better address such issues with less discomfort. Today's session was equally satisfying. I left Dr. Sara's office feeling much better.

Tomorrow's training session is much intense with a three mile run and some weights!

1.25.2011

Today, I feel red. Some say that means impatient; others might interpret it as anger. Nope, I just feel red. I like the color; I have lots of things that are red; it holds no significant meaning for me; I just wanted to share it with you...

My training session today consisted of a .5 mile warm-up, 3 mile run, and .5 mile cool down. Overall the most challenging part of it was figuring out what the heart rate monitor was telling me. I think the watch end of my monitor is dead, but fortunately the chest strap zoned in on the heart rate monitor on the treadmill. Honestly, if I would have believed what my watch was telling me, I should have scampered straight to the emergency room. It had me up around 220 bpm on a standard 3 mile run and 6.5 mph.

That said, I chose to ignore my watch and focus on the treadmill's readout. My goal for today was to keep my heart rate between 130 and 140 beats per minute (bpm) for an easy aerobic run. What I noticed is that I was settling in to an average bpm of about 125 and 130. What I found most intersting, however, was that every time I let my mind wander from the training at hand (which happens quite a bit...), my bpm spiked way up. Then when I focused back on movement and breathing, it came down and settled back in rather quickly.

Overall, it was a decent training session. I will say though that instead of crumbling to that rich chocolate cake that would have gone soooo goooood with my healthy banana for breakfast, I did opt for a granola bar instead. I consider that to be my huge personal accomplishment for the day!

Tomorrow, interval training!

1.24.2011

This is the day I've been waiting for. But it kind of feels anti-climactic. The training for the day consists of weightlifting with .5 mile warm-up and cool-down, and stretching. I chose to go with the flexibility section of SPINeRVALS' Flexible Warrior. (It has a tough sounding title...) Overall, it was a good training session.

Today, I also worked to get ready for tomorrow's session, which consists of a 3 mile run. It feels a bit lean, but Wednesday's session is interval training. In order to get ready for tomorrow, I need to be sure my heart rate monitor is working (the battery was dead, and I didn't quite know how to work it properly). I did get a new battery, and I have played with the functions enough that I think I'm good for tomorrow. Tomorrow, during my 3 mile run, I'll be working to get a feel for heart rate zones. As with other aspects of "training", it's been a long while since I've done heart rate training. I guess I'm not too old to start it up again!

1.21.2011

T-3 days and counting...As my workouts have steadily improved over the course of the week, so too has my anticipation of Monday, January 24th!

A very intelligent man I know tried to define for me the difference between exercising and training. He told me that the difference is in the intensity of the activity. By this standard, I have just been excercising for about 7 years. What I am committing to over the next several months will be intensity. In short, speed work...

Yesterday, at the gym, I was on the treadmill doing my comfortable 4 mile run. I though to myself, I can do this pace forever...Then I got it. I was exercising. I wasn't training. Feeling a bit wimpy at this revelation, and with a bit of taunting about the "baby weights" I was using to bench press, I "trained" during the weight session. I moved out of my comfort zone, increased weights where it was safe, and got a little sore.

Today, I can honestly admit that my 75 minute bike session was exercise. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. On January 24th, I start training!

1.18.2011

T-Six days and counting! Today my workout play consisted of four miles on the treadmill, followed by a light weightlifting session, and a bit of forced relaxation in the tanning bed.

First off, workouts aren't always cleansing or invigorating no matter what level you're exercising at. If you're just starting out, or if you have been at it for a long time, some days just stink. I would rate my run this morning at about a toe jam infested smelly sock level--meaning that there are worse things that can happen, but there are definitely much more enjoyable running days. About half way through, I really wanted to stop and take a break. Instead, I lied to myself saying, "Man up princess! Just get through another quarter mile!" It actually got me over the bump, and the rest of the run was manageable.

Coming off such a stinky run, I moved into my weightlifting for the day. Here, my brain settled in, and the toe jams and smelly socks became more like over-ripe fruit. It was defintely an improvement! I was able to settle in, and focus on the various exercises. One of my friends on FB recently posted something about taking joy in the smaller things in life. With that in mind, I focused on each rep of each set of each exercise. And then, when I was doing squats, the sun broke from the clouds for a glorious minute, and if I closed my eyes, I could imagine what it will be like in a few short months when the sun is warm and everything is green. In the end, it wasn't a bad session at all. I found some peace.

Finally, I topped everything off with some forced relaxation in the tanning bed. In no, way, shape or form could this 20 minutes of warm bliss smell bad. In fact, I could actually smell the beach and summer! (Of course, it's inconsequential that I was also using summer-smelling lotion!)

1.15.2011

One week ago, I registered for my first half marathon! I've been thinking about it for awhile, and have always been clueless as to why someone would want to do the same activity for roughly two hours, give take roughly 45 minutes either way. Honestly, I consider myself too distractable to run for an entire 13 miles without tripping, falling, or veering off the route to say hi to a fuzzy kitty or a random, hopefully not rabid, puppy dog!

My first challenge was a question on the registration form. It asked me why I wanted to do this race. The only answer that came to mind was "I'm curious". Heck, I can walk that far, probably. I could even run most of it, maybe. At the very least, I can crawl the last few miles if necessary. I beg you not to challenge my logic. It's working for me right now...That sums it up. I'm curious as to why people love this so much.

The next more practical challenge was how to train for such an event, in the middle of winter, in Minnesota. Armed with my home treadmill, my newly acquired gym membership (http://www.suburbanhealthclub.com/), and heaven  forbid the great outdoors--if I find that my treadmill dies, or the gym spontaneously combusts, I have set a training program (www.halhigdon.com/halfmarathon) that will end exactly when it is supposed to end, on April 16th.

My training officially starts on January 24th! I'm counting the days with trepidation.